


Selfishly

by togekissies



Series: Fairytale AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Minor Violence, Modern Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togekissies/pseuds/togekissies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tooru,” Suga says again. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through the hair that’s falling across Tooru’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Tooru lets out a long sigh and leans into Suga’s touch. “Nothing,” he lies.</p><p>-</p><p>(Oikawa cups her face. “I’m curious,” he says, keeping his voice low, “why you think a monster would ever be kind.”)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfishly

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic i've written for day seven of oisuga week, for au/free prompt. it's for the fairytale au that has taken over my life recently. oikawa is an 800ish year old vampire and suga is the young witch he's commissioned to make blood potions for him to drink. as you can imagine, things snowballed.
> 
> some small warnings: the first small scene of this fic depicts some violence and death of unnamed characters. the rest of it is basically oikawa having a Bad Brain Week, though nothing is explicitly about depression, it's more about the actual feeling of it.

It’s the dead of night, and the moon is high and bright as the last screams of a dying man are silenced. Oikawa lifts his hand, removing it from the chest of the lord of the house, and frowns. What a mess these people have made of his traveling outfit. It’s covered in the blood of perhaps a dozen people and torn in multiple places. He knew he would be ditching his European styled clothing as soon as he settled back in Japan, but it’s the principle of the thing. He wipes his hands on the dead man’s fine robe, content to ruin his clothing in return.

Behind him shocked gasps give way to hyperventilation. Oikawa smirks, pulling his lips back more to show off the full length of his fangs, and turns. The former lord’s pretty daughter is holding herself together well, all things considered. Most people who watch their entire family get murdered in front of them are a mess by now. Though, Oikawa notes with pleasure, there are streaks of tears down her blood splattered face.

“My, my,” he says, taking a few steps in her direction. She shrinks back, but she’s already pressed against the wall. “You were so quiet I almost forgot you were here!” He’s lying, of course. There’s no way he would have lost track of a single living thing in this house. He kneels in front of her, and she flinches and closes her eyes. “Now, what should I do with you, little mouse?”

Her mouth moves, sputtering out wordless sounds, until she finds her voice. “J-just kill me already,” she says, surprisingly strong. Oikawa is slightly impressed.

He lightly touches her face, tilting it away from him. The edge of her kimono slides down, and he’s greeted with a stunning view of her neck. He presses the fingers of his other hand over her pulse, feeling the blood pumping through her veins. Her blood smells delicious, though he detects no ounce of magic in it. It’s not ideal, but she will sustain him until he can establish himself and find a better supply of blood.

She grits her teeth, breathing hard, like she expects him to slash her throat. “Now why would I do that?” he says, gently. He fixes her kimono and brushes her hair back from her face. “I still have use for you, my little mouse.”

She freezes and her mouth gapes. “No,” she says, “no, no no no, please don’t, no—” She faces him, tears streaming down her face even harder than before. For the first time her voice breaks. “If you have any kindness left in you, please, I’m begging you, just kill me now!”

Oikawa cups her face. “I’m curious,” he says, keeping his voice low, “why you think a monster would ever be kind.”

She closes her eyes tightly and sobs, muttering, “No, no, no, please no,” like a pathetic mantra. Oikawa has no patience for this, especially not since he hears a door slide open outside.

“Come now,” he says, hoisting her up by the arm. He has to support most of her weight since she has now entered the useless state hostages often go into. It annoys him more than it inconveniences him. “Put on a smile! Your debut is coming up, and I need you to make a great first impression.”

She sobs even harder, but Oikawa is determined not to let it bother him. He puts an arm around her, holding her close, but keeping his other hand free. He faces the door, and not a moment too soon, because someone new charges on through, stepping over a body on his way in.

“You’ve returned too, Iwa?” Oikawa says, grinning.

Iwaizumi glances around once, face impassive at all the bodies and blood that decorates the room. He must have expected this by the carnage in other rooms in the house, though after centuries of experience Oikawa knows he simply isn’t phased by death. Iwa’s eyes settle on Oikawa, then the girl. “I should have known.”

“No, what you _should_ have done is minded your own business.” Oikawa wags a finger back and forth. “I understand that it’s difficult being apart from me for too long but, please, Iwa, even _I_ need my space.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t take the bait like he hasn’t for a vast majority of their relationship. He stares him down instead, grip tightening on his sword ever so slightly. “Let her go, Oikawa.”

“Request denied.” Oikawa pulls the girl even closer, which causes her to give a strangled gasp. “I need her for now. You can have her back once I’m done, however!”

The meaning behind Oikawa’s words does not escape Iwaizumi’s notice. He steps forward, muscles tensed and expression turning mean. “Oikawa, don’t you dare—”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before Oikawa activates his cloaking ability, shadows throwing themselves forward and drenching the room in darkness. His cloaking ability has always been strong, but after spending years in Europe, where vampires don’t have cloaking abilities, he’s honed it to an art he can use as a weapon. The girl shrieks, and Oikawa covers her mouth to silence her. _He_ can see through the darkness, easily locates the nearest window and leaps through it, carrying the girl easily.

He expected Iwaizumi the ever dutiful vampire hunter to catch up with him sooner rather than later, but he thought he would have more time to raid the manor for supplies beforehand. At least he managed to find a steady supply of meals for the next few weeks. He turns his gaze to the girl to smirk triumphantly, gloating while he still can, before Iwaizumi finds his way out. Her eyes are still shining with tears but she’s stopped crying, and for some reason his heart is overcome with guilt he never remembers feeling in this memory before—

-

Sunlight peeks around the edges of the thick curtains that cover the windows in Tooru’s bedroom. He stares at it for several long moments before rolling over to check the clock for the time. Not only is it the middle of the afternoon, but he also went to sleep only a couple hours ago. He isn’t tired anymore, not to mention he doesn’t want to go back to reliving the horrible things he’s done, so he gives up on sleep.

Instinctively Tooru reaches out to the other side of the bed as if he would find someone laying there. It’s empty, of course. Suga doesn’t often sleep in the castle, and if he did, it wouldn’t be in the afternoon on a day when he has to run his shop. Tooru feels lonely and stupid.

He wonders if he was shouting in his sleep, and tries to convince himself he was so he feels better about Suga not being there. But Tooru knows he’s not one to indicate he’s having a nightmare when he’s asleep. Iwa has told him as much, adding on that it’s creepy seeing him from going still with sleep to awake and looking so tortured. Tooru has no reason not to believe him. Besides, if no one from Nekoma has broken down his door by now, he must believe no one would have noticed.

So Tooru makes a plan: he is going to lay in bed and not sleep for at least another two hours, by which time it isn’t unreasonable that he would be awake and moving about the castle to prepare for his day. After about an hour of his usual routine he will make his way into the city to arrive at Suga’s a little earlier than normal, then he will sit on Suga’s couch and read a book and not making a nuisance of himself for once. Then, when Suga goes to bed, Tooru will dutifully follow him and lay down next to him, still not sleeping, and he’ll slip out of his apartment right before Suga wakes up.

Naturally, Tooru deviates from this plan almost immediately, when he gets bored of doing nothing after only ten minutes and scoots out of bed. He dresses quickly, tossing his nightclothes in the general direction of his hamper. He then slips out of his door quietly, as if he needs to sneak out of his own castle. He pauses just outside his door, but he can’t hear or sense anyone nearby.

The halls seem to be deserted as he walks through them, actually, leading Tooru to believe that his permanent house guests are all out on a day trip somewhere. He relaxes, but this proves to be a mistake because a voice calls out from the next room Tooru passes. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Tooru glances in the room and scoffs. Kuroo has sequestered one of his old offices as his study room, and he has dutifully done his homework in it nearly every night since he elected to go back to university. He has a few books open in front of him, evidently in the middle of writing a research paper, along with the old laptop Nekoma scraped together enough money for as a surprise for him. Besides him sits the littlest cat, Kenma, currently in his human form and busy with a game system or his phone, Tooru can’t tell the difference. Tooru can probably count the times he’s seen Kenma’s human form on both hands, and he’s known him for over a year at this point.

“Shouldn’t you be shutting up?” Tooru retorts, which is probably his worst one yet. Kuroo throws his head back and laughs. Kenma glances up from his little electronic box only once.

“Whatever, man,” Kuroo says, shaking his head. Tooru can tell his attention is drifting. “If you burn to a crisp, make sure you leave everything to me in your dying breath.”

“Fat chance!” Tooru says, which is very mature of him. He doesn’t stick around long enough for Kuroo to reconsider his lack of curiosity, however, and hurries the rest of the way to his front door.

It’s only there when he pauses in his determination to leave. Normally he would just step out into the day, his cloaking powers more than enough to protect him from the sun, but with the memories of how he’s used those powers fresh in his mind he hesitates. There is an umbrella in the stand next to the door that is embedded with powerful sun-blocking charms that he could use instead. Suga’s mothers sent it to him for the holidays. He’d still need to use a little cloaking magic with the sun this high, and he would also stand out more.

His dilemma boils down to using his vampire powers, or let strangers on the street know he’s a vampire by not using those powers.

That rationalization makes his choice an easy one, and without further thought he opens the door, shadows wrapping around him to protect him from the sun. He has become too used to the easy anonymity he’s been granted after changing from his antiquated wardrobe to the modern one Suga had helped him with to want to give it up. He walks down the street and, aside from a few heads that turn after he leaves the grounds of his castle, no one pays him any more mind than they would for any other stranger. He is so skilled with his cloaking powers that the average person wouldn’t be able to detect that, either.

The walk is one that Tooru long since memorized. It’s easy enough for his feet to find their rhythm, but he finds that his problem is that now he has too much time to think. He never learned the name of the girl he kidnapped all those years ago, or maybe he had heard it but made no effort to remember it. She wasn’t the first human he kidnapped for a supply of blood and certainly wasn’t the last. Her only distinction was being the first person he toyed with after coming back to Japan with one goal in mind: to become the most hated, most feared creature in the country.

During his first foray into becoming a vampire king, before he left Japan for a couple centuries, he may have left her alive and scarred in a village after he was done with her. He’d grown somewhat fond, after all. But if he wanted to be rehensible, he had to do rehensible things. He drained her dry after finding a new blood source, leaving the body behind for Iwa to find.

Really, Tooru is a horrible person. He still can’t understand why Iwa has allowed him to live.

It’s cold outside, and despite being layered in sweaters and a coat that all have been charmed to provide warmth, Tooru feels frozen to his core. He shoves his hands in his pockets, ducks his head down so his scarf covers his ears, and jogs the remaining blocks to the apartment complex run by the Tanaka family. The front door is unfortunately not one of those automatic ones Tooru has grown to like in weather like this, and the metal handle is freezing under his hand. Inside provides relief. He sighs and loiters for as long as he dares, letting the modern miracle of central heating warm his bones.

His next destination is an apartment on the second floor, though just outside the door he hesitates. It’s been months since he discovered he apparently has constant permission to enter (the word _home_ is one he refuses to think), but he still raises his fist and knocks.

It’s mere moments later when Suga answers the door, his kind smile fading into a look of confusion. He opens his mouth, probably to ask Tooru why he isn’t sleeping, but then he shakes his head and takes Tooru by the arm. “Get inside, you idiot.”

Tooru does more than just walk inside Suga’s apartment: in the threshold, right after the door is closed behind him, he takes Suga into his arms and buries his face on his shoulder. Suga returns the hug within seconds.

He’s comfortable and warm but still overcome with crushing guilt, especially when he turns his head slightly into Suga’s neck. The blood that runs through his veins is the same type as that girl’s from so many years ago, but with plenty of magic as well. His perfect meal, in other words. Tooru tilts his head even further and plants a kiss at the base of Suga’s neck. Any other person on the face of the planet would flinch away with a vampire’s mouth so close to their neck, but Suga doesn’t. Judging by the fond way he sighs, he’s smiling.

Suga turns his head and Tooru thinks he’s going to return the favor. Instead he whispers, “Someone’s here.” Immediately Tooru releases him and scans the portion of the room he can see from the entryway. No one is standing around and staring at them, but that doesn’t mean whoever it was didn’t see them earlier. He feels so stupid for not looking for looking for anyone earlier. Suga often has people in his apartment, usually customers picking up their order, and while Tooru isn’t often over this early in the day he thought he was used to it.

“Get rid of them,” Tooru says quietly, though not nearly as quiet as Suga’s whisper. He doesn’t particularly care if he’s overhead.

Suga just shakes his head. “You can go sleep in my bed, if you want.” He steps away and refocuses his attention on his mysterious guest, leaving Tooru to remove his shoes and coat all on his lonesome. He frowns the entire time, petulant, though he can’t say he’s surprised. Suga often doesn’t have time for him during his business hours. Tooru knew he was sabotaging himself by coming over early and he did it anyway.

It doesn’t take long for Tooru to uncover the identity of Suga’s mysterious house guest. A few steps into the main room and he sees Sendai’s other pretty witch, a woman named Shimizu, sitting at the table Suga brews his potions at. Tooru frowns more deeply, crosses the room, and sits on the couch with a huff. Suga carries on the conversation as if Tooru isn’t there, though he does glance over and smile occasionally. Tooru crosses his arms over his chest, feeling wound up, and starts to tap his foot impatiently.

Suga stands up. Tooru freezes, expecting to be scolded for any multitude of reasons, but instead Suga walks to the one of his bookshelves that actually contains books. He pulls one down, a folded scrap of paper stuck between the pages, and wordlessly hands it to Tooru before sitting back down. Tooru studies the cover, then the inside flap, and dully he remembers that this is a book he started reading weeks ago and didn’t finish. He checks the pages the paper is stuck between and finds that it is the one he left off on. Suga must have marked it for him.

He is about to discard the scrap of paper before movement from inside the fold catches his eye. This makes no sense. He frowns, unfolding the paper. Inside are childish drawings of stars, like the ones Natsu has drawn for him after she found out he likes stargazing, only they are alive with movement and dance across the page. Tooru glances up to see Suga watching him, brows knit together with nervousness. He smiles when he catches Tooru’s eye.

Ah, he sees. The paper is a gift, a small piece of enjoyment that Suga charmed for him to find later. The smile Tooru returns with is small but genuine. He refolds the paper carefully, then places it in his pocket. He then turns his attention to the book, settling in to read.

The conversation between the two witches is distressing from the bits Tooru manages to catch when he isn’t focused on reading. Things like bogweed and full moons and newt livers make him imagine creepy, illicit witchy things, even though he’s known Suga for long enough to logically know that the magic he casts is infinitely more helpful than harmful. It’s Shimizu and her love of curses he’s wary of. He’s grateful when she gets up to leave. She says goodbye to Suga, completely ignores him, and exits the apartment.

Tooru pretends he hasn’t noticed that now he and Suga are alone together like he wanted and casually turns another page. Suga is across the room, clinking bottles together or whatever it is he does when he makes just enough noise for it to be impossible to forget he’s there. Eventually Suga stops fussing with his things, which is good, and he stands in front of Tooru, which isn’t so good.

“Tooru,” Suga says quietly.

He lets a few seconds pass by before he answers. “You’re the only person who call me that, you know,” Tooru remarks casually, flipping another page even though he hadn’t absorbed any of the words.

“Is that a problem?” Suga asks. He shifts his weight to one foot and rubs his arm, almost as if he’s nervous for the answer.

So, Tooru decides to answer honestly. “No,” he says, “it’s not.”

He doesn’t elaborate on how being called _Tooru_ instead of _Oikawa_ or even the ever appropriate _monster_ makes him feel like a person for once. He isn’t sure if he entirely likes it, because feeling human comes with pesky things like emotions. Things like loneliness or remorse are suffocating at times, but so is being near Suga. He keeps his eyes focused on the book though he’s long since lost track of the plot.

“Tooru,” Suga says again. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through the hair that’s falling across Tooru’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Tooru lets out a long sigh and leans into Suga’s touch. “Nothing,” he lies.

Out of all the lies he’s told in his long life, this isn’t his best. Suga sees through it in a second, judging by the way he smiles gently. He sits on the couch next to him, says, “Come here,” and pulls Tooru toward him until he’s holding him the same way he was when he answered the door. Tooru sighs heavily. He returns the hug but finds it’s not enough, and he leans more and more of his weight on Suga until he can’t support the both of them anymore and falls back onto the couch. Suga laughs, a little breathless, and does not tell Tooru to get off him.

It isn’t the ideal cuddling position, but Tooru burrows his head in the crook of Suga’s neck anyway. He doesn’t want to move for hours if he can help it. Suga starts gently stroking Tooru’s back. “When’s the last time you ate?” he asks.

Tooru hums in thought. “A few days ago,” is what he says, but the truth is he can’t remember. He just knows he didn’t drink any blood potion yesterday and that he’s had some more recently than a week ago.

“We should have dinner together, then.” Suga pauses. “We could even go out, if you want. Make it a date. Or we could stay in.”

“Stay in,” Tooru responds automatically. Going out involves too much effort and too many people. If he wants to spend time with Suga, then it makes sense to do so without other people distracting him from paying attention to Tooru.

“Staying in it is,” Suga says, then he falls silent while he continues to stroke Tooru’s back. Tooru relaxes slowly, easing his breathing into something slower and calmer.

He shouldn’t be here. He should never have knocked on Suga’s door after he moved in all those months ago for that matter. He should never have let Suga kiss him, he should never have returned it, and, most importantly, he never should have let them entered some semblance of a relationship. Tooru may not be the monster who murdered that poor girl after she ceased being useful to him, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be the monster who breaks Suga’s heart in the future.

He knows this, and yet he can’t tear himself away from Suga’s arms. He sinks further into relaxation, knowing that putting his full weight on Suga is unfair, and wallows in how much of a failure he is. There is still time for him to do the right thing, but—but Suga is warm and he smells good and Tooru is a disgustingly selfish person.

Tooru isn’t sure how long they just lay there, but it’s long enough that he can’t believe Suga hasn’t gotten fed up with him taking up time allotted for work like he usually does. In fact, it isn’t until there’s a knock on the door that Suga tells him to move.

“I need to get that,” he says, hands stilling.

“Hrmph,” Tooru mumbles into Suga’s neck.

“Tooru, please get off.”

With a lot of grumbling, Tooru finally lifts himself up enough for Suga to maneuver his way out from under him. Tooru falls back onto the couch face-first as soon as Suga is free of his grasp. His eyes hurt from the lack of sleep.

“I’ll be right there,” Suga calls to the door, but then he walks in the opposite direction. Tooru watches him curiously with one eye. It’s not like him to ignore a customer. Suga reaches one of the windows in the room and tugs on the curtains so they cover the glass. He then does this for each of the windows in the main room, and even goes into the kitchen to cover the little window above the sink. With each one the annoying prickle of the sun disappears from Oikawa’s exposed skin, and the impossible happens: he feels better.

Suga flashes him a smile on his way to the door. Tooru decides he can at least look presentable when his next customer is invited inside while he gathers up their potions or charms. He picks himself up from the couch and sits on the opposite side from earlier. He retrieves the book from where it fell on the ground and flips through the pages until he finds the one he left off on. He’s perfectly poised by the time Suga and his guest enter his view. After months of this becoming routine, the customer doesn’t blink at Tooru’s presence in the room even though it’s still too early for him to supposedly be awake.

He’s still unerringly selfish, Tooru thinks to himself as he skims the page, but he just can’t give someone as thoughtful as Suga up. Not just yet.

 


End file.
